


The Real Me

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Every Day AU, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Bodyswap, Comatose Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Rebuilt Hale House, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Every morning, he wakes up in a new body, remembering nothing but his name. He’s scared and confused and the only constant is Derek Hale.





	The Real Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MataSenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MataSenpai/gifts).



 

The first time he woke up, he was a blond boy with thick curls, bright blue eyes, and a sweet smile. But that morning, when he looked at himself in the mirror, there was an uneasy feeling of dissociation. He knew that wasn’t him.

 _Think_ , he scolded himself. _What’s the last thing you remember?_

Mieczyslaw.

The name was the only thing he could remember—just the name and endless darkness.

The knock at the bedroom door startled him.

“Isaac?” The door opened as a young man stepped in. He looked like the boy in the mirror—blonde hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a kind face, but his hair was shorter, his eyes darker, and he looked to be at least three years older. “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” he replied.

The older boy’s eyes drifted down to his brother’s arms.

Mieczyslaw glanced down, looking at the smears of purple, black and blue that marred his pale flesh.

“Dad was a little… intense last night,” his brother said. “You sure you’re alright?”

“It’s fine,” Mieczyslaw repeated, grabbing the long-sleeve shirt that sat by the foot of his bed. He tugged it on, feeling his body ache, his skin pulled tight around more tender bruises. He fought to keep a straight face as he pulled on a pair of jeans and shoes and grabbed a jacket. “I just need some air.”

Before the boy could protest, Mieczyslaw skirted around him and made his way downstairs. He shrugged on the jacket and made his way out into the street.

The town seemed familiar, but nothing seemed to spark any memories; he couldn’t find a street name or a house that sparked a memory.

He made his way to the edge of town, to where the small, obnoxiously coloured playground bordered the edge of the preserve. He followed the trail that lead into the labyrinth of trees – thick pine trees arching over him and skeletal, pale birch trees with black eyes that watched him as he walked into the cool darkness.

The dry husks of leaves crackled beneath his feet, the rich smell of sweet petrichor filling his lungs as he walked along the muddy train and further into the woods. The trees towered over him, beams of light shining through the canopy.

Crystal-like droplets of dew gathered on the wavering blades of grass and delicate flowers grew along the edge of the path, filling the undergrowth with bursts of colour: white, purple, yellow, and blue.

He tried to draw in steady breath, calming himself as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

He’d woken up in someone else’s body—some kid called Isaac.

He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, slowing to a stop as he tried to steady his racing heart. He shifted from foot to foot as he turned about, realising he had lost his way among the labyrinth of trees and blankets of yellow fallen leaves.

He turned, catching a glimpse of a figure among the skeletal trees. He let out a sharp gasp, his heart lurching in his chest.

He bowed his head, trying to avoid eye contact as the man stalked towards him.

The man looked to be in his twenties. He had a square jaw that was darkened by stubble and wore an old black leather jacket. He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair, trying to tame the mess that was tousled by the wind. His pale aventurine eyes were fixed on them, the pale depths shifting from hues of green to brown and blue—mesmerising.

“What are you doing here?” the man demanded. “This is private property.”

Mieczyslaw felt his heart skip a beat. He ran his hand through his thick sandy-blonde curls, shifting anxiously as he said, “Sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

The man narrowed his eyes on him.

“I got turned around,” Mieczyslaw said, his pulse hammering in his ears.

The man tilted his head slightly, levelling him with a questioning look. “What’s your name?”

“Mieczyslaw,” he answered without thinking. He paused, his brown furrowing slightly. “Do I know you?”

“No,” the man replied. “I don’t think so.”

A moment of quiet settled between them.

“The walking track is about two minutes that way,” the man said, pointing towards the trees behind the boy.

“Thank you,” Mieczyslaw said, turning to leave. He paused for a second before turning back towards the man. “What’s your name?”

The man raised his brows.

“I told you mine, it’s only fair that you tell me yours,” he said.

“Derek,” the man replied. “Derek Hale.”

 

 

Mieczyslaw wandered about aimlessly for a while before his body began to ache. He made his way back down the familiar streets to the house he had left that morning. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up before kicking off his boots.

“Where the hell have you been?” a man shouted from the kitchen.

Mieczyslaw turned, his heart lurching into his throat as the man appeared in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on him. He had a rectangular face with thinning brown hair and a pair of thin-framed silver glasses that sat on his wrinkled face. His cheeks were flushed red and he held a bottle in his hand.

“I went for a walk,” he said, hating himself for how weak his voice was.

“You went for a walk?” the man repeated back mockingly.

Without wanting the man hurled the bottle at him.

Mieczyslaw ducked as the bottle hit the doorframe, raining shards of glass over him. His nostrils burnt with the bitter smell of whiskey as the alcohol soaked his shirt.

It took him a second to steady himself before he looked up at the man, his eyes wide.

The man lunged at him, grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him off his feet.

Mieczyslaw choked on his breath, clawing at the man’s arms. Hot tears stung his eyes, blurring the world around as bursts of colour filled his vision and darkness crept into his periphery.

“Dad, stop,” his brother called out. “Please, stop.”

The man ignored his son. He tightened his grip around Isaac’s throat as he spat, “We’d all be better of if you were dead.”

“So would we,” Isaac rasped.

He slammed his knee into his father’s gut, breaking free of the man’s grasp as he doubled over in pain.

He slowly straightened, glaring at Isaac; livid with rage. “You bastard!”

The man charged at him.

Mieczyslaw balled his hand into a fist and swung at him. He slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, his knuckles hitting the bone with a sickening crack.

The man staggered backwards before falling to the floor with a painful _thud_. He didn’t get up.

Mieczyslaw watched the man’s still body, breathing out a sigh of relief as the man’s chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

“Isaac,” his brother called, rushing over to his side. He took his brother’s face in his hands, his midnight blue eyes full of worry. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied.

“I’m going to call the police,” Camden said, his voice calm and steady.

“No, please—”

“It was self-defence. They’ll understand that.”

That night, the boys went to sleep in a motel, a deputy standing guard outside their room. It was over; the Sheriff had assured them that Camden would get custody of Isaac and that they’d set them up somewhere safe and keep them safe until the case was closed.

 

 

When he woke up the next morning, he was buried in a pile of soft blankets. He pushed them back and sat up, feeling a curtain of wavy hair fall around his face. He brushed it back, blinking in surprise as he looked across the room at the reflection in the full-length mirror.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, his eyes wide as he looked at his reflection.

He stared at the face of the teenage girl, a mess of strawberry blonde hair falling around his shoulders. She had pale, jade-green eyes and soft pink lips.

“No, no, no,” he whispered. “This can’t be happening.”

Mieczyslaw kicked his legs free from the sheets and grabbed the nearest clothes he could find; a pair of jeans and a black singlet that had been tossed across the back of a chair. He found a soft, knitted cardigan and pulled it on, as well as a pair of low-heeled boots.

He made his way out of the house and walked until he found himself in the middle of the woods, standing among the blankets of frail leaves and towering pine trees. He looked up at the canopy, watching the beams of light dance as they filtered through the changing leaves. The tree branches stretched across the sky, painting it with colour: burgundy, umber, crimson, vermillion, orange, yellow, and green.

He had to admit, he was relieved when he saw Derek emerge from the woods, his face set in a stern snarl.

“This is—”

“Private property,” Mieczyslaw finished, startled slightly by the sound of his voice. “I know. But I need your help.”

“Do I know you?” Derek asked.

“We met yesterday,” Mieczyslaw said. “But I looked different. And I know this I going to sound insane, but I need you to hear me out. I woke up yesterday in a body that wasn’t mine, and the same happened this morning. I don’t remember anything, but I do remember you; I don’t know how I remember you, but I do.”

Derek stared at him blankly.

“My name Mieczyslaw,” he said slowly.

“And you’re a guy in a girl’s body?” Derek finished. A wicket smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he teasingly asked, “How’s that working out for you?”

“I got dressed with my eyes shut,” Mieczyslaw replied defensively.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Derek started slowly, “but if you’re looking for help, I don’t know how to help you.”

“I know,” he said, defeated. “I just… I’m always drawn here—to you—and I don’t know why.”

“Alright, just take a breath,” Derek said, his deep voice soothing. “Why don’t we go back to my place? It’s about to rain.”

Mieczyslaw nodded, following the man back through the undergrowth and to a large house. The A-frame roof was covered in dark tiles, the outside covered in wooden siding that was painted a chestnut brown—slightly darker than the original cream paint. The details were all there; white trim, large windows, and dark shutters. There were spots in the siding where you could see he had patched it up, where new wood met the withered, charred old wood like the smooth skin of a healing scar.

There was something about the house that was familiar, but Mieczyslaw couldn’t tell if it was from his memories, or from the girl’s.

Derek led the way inside, into the large foyer that faced a central staircase.

“Wow,” he uttered breathlessly, his wide eyes taking in every detail.

“I’ve spent the last eight years rebuilding this place,” Derek told him as he made his way through the dining room and into the kitchen, filling an old iron kettle and setting it on the stove to boil.

“Rebuilding?” Mieczyslaw repeated. “What happened?”

“A fire,” Derek said, his voice quiet.

Mieczyslaw saw the glint of pain that passed over his eyes and decided not to press the matter.

“So, tell me what’s going on?” Derek said, pulling two mugs from the nearby cupboard and setting them on the counter.

“Where do I start?” Mieczyslaw muttered to himself. “I woke up yesterday and I was in someone else’s body—some kid called Isaac. I have no memories of who I am aside from my name, and no idea why this is happening. I went to sleep in Isaac’s body last night and, this morning, woke up in this body.”

“So you change bodies when you fall asleep?” Derek reiterated.

“Yeah, apparently,” Mieczyslaw replied, “and I don’t know _how_ —or how to stop it.”

“Maybe you need to find your body?” Derek offered.

“That’s a great idea, but one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I have no idea who I am,” Mieczyslaw admitted.

 

 

Derek was right; it rained not long after they made it back to the house. The heavy grey clouds rolled in and the sky darkened. The heavy rain fell to the earth, crashing against the windows and streaming down the glass in glistening rivulets.

The sweet smell of petrichor filled the air and the sound of the rain falling against the roof soothed him.

The two of them sat in the lounge room, drinking tea and talking, until the storm passed and Mieczyslaw looked out the large bay window at the bright sunset.

The sky was streaked with vibrant colours: orange, pink, purple and blue.

“I’d better be getting back,” Mieczyslaw said. “Otherwise, this girl—” he pointed at himself. “—is going to wake up in a stranger’s house or in the middle of nowhere, and I know how scary that can be.”

“Let me, at least, give you a ride home,” Derek said softly, picking up the keys that sat on the coffee table between them.

Mieczyslaw smiled. “Thank you.”

 

 

The next morning, he woke up in a room that was vaguely familiar. He sat up, looking at the coffee-brown walls and scattered posters, photos, and framed art. He kicked his legs free of the sheets and ran into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection; a young teen with a mop of thick brown hair, tan skin, and dark eyes.

“Holy shit,” Mieczyslaw whispered. “I’m Scott.”

A hint of lingering doubt sat in the back of his mind. He pulled up the sleeve of his tee-shirt and turned slightly, looking at the reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, he looked down at the two rings of black ink that encircled his bicep.

“I hate that stupid tattoo,” he muttered to himself, tugging down his sleeve.

He made his way back into the room, looking around for clothes. He picked up a pair of jeans that lay on the floor, pulling them on before grabbing a pair of sneakers and a sports jacket. He made his way downstairs and out the front door, navigating the familiar streets as he made his way down to the playground on the edge of town.

He buried his hands in his jacket pockets and making his way down the muddy walking tracks and into the familiar clearing in the woods.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw Derek waiting for him, his shoulders sagging with relief.

“Derek,” he called out.

Derek turned, lifting a brow as his pale aventurine eyes met Mieczyslaw’s.

“Another day, another body,” he said, looking the teen up and down with a thoughtful expression.

“This time it’s weird,” Mieczyslaw said. “I know this guy. This is Scott.”

Derek blinked in surprise. “You know him?”

“Yes, but for the life of me I don’t know _how_ I know him.”

Before Derek could say anything, the phone in Scott’s jacket pocket rang. He pulled it out, looking down at the screen as a photo of a beautiful woman with long black hair appeared on screen and the caller ID that read MUM.

He answered the call. “Hi, Mum.”

“Hey, sweetie,” she replied, her voice soft and familiar. “The nurses are ordering Thai but none of us can get a break right now. Could you please pick it up and bring it to the hospital for us?”

“The usual place?” he asked.

“Yeah, the place on Main Street,” she replied.

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said; he could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Okay. Bye.” He hung up. “I’ve got to go and pick up Thai food.”

“I’ll give you a lift,” Derek offered, nodding back the way he had come.

 

 

He didn’t look at Derek as they drove; he kept his eyes out the window as Derek revved the engine and glided out of the parking lot. Slowly, Mieczyslaw felt himself relax, sinking into the plush seats as the purr of the Camaro’s engine rumbled through his chest.

“So you change bodies every time you fall asleep, right?” Derek said as they drove into town. “Have you tried staying awake?”

“I’ve considered it, but… I can’t.”

“What if I stay awake with you?” Derek offered. “I’ll buy energy drinks, make coffee, whatever you need.”

“I can’t,” Mieczyslaw objected. “These people have their own lives, their own souls, and I can’t…” His words fell away as he turned his eyes out the window at the dreary grey sky.

“You can’t take over their lives,” Derek finished.

Mieczyslaw let out a dejected sigh. “I don’t know what to do. I guess, I just have to hope that I’ll eventually wake up in my own body.”

 

 

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but he let out a weak breath as he blinked his eyes open. He squinted against the glaring light overhead, grimacing at the bitter smell of rubbing alcohol and lemon-scented cleaner that burnt his nostrils.

His head was throbbing, his limbs weighed down like stone

There was a woman sitting by his bed, monitoring the beeping machines.

Stiles blinked heavily as he tried to focus on her—trying to take in the details. A small gold necklace hung around her neck, the pendant was woven strands of gold with four gemstones set into the design. Her soft face was worn with creases, a kind smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were like dark smoky quartz. Her long dark hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, falling in messy waves down her back. A few curls had escaped the elastic tie, falling down around her face. She smelt like roses and something nostalgic.

He knew her face; he’d seen it before.

She turned to look at him, letting out a sharp gasp as she jumped.

“You’re awake,” she said, shocked. She rose to her feet and hurried towards the door. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh shit,” Mieczyslaw rasped.

 _You have to move_ , his mind screamed. _You have to get out of here now!_

His body ached as he tried to sit up, his hands shaking as he unhooked the IV in his arm and carefully removed it. Pain shot up his forearm as he pulled the needle form his arm.

He dragged himself from the bed, searing pain soaring through his legs as he struggled to move. He staggered over to the small chair in the corner of the room, a duffle bag sitting on it. He pulled open the zip, relieved when he found a change of clothes: jeans, shirt, bright red hoodie, and a pair of sneakers.

He didn’t bother with the shirt – the hospital gown he wore would have to be enough – and quickly got dressed.

He tried his best to act normal as he stuck past the hospital staff dressed in teal scrubs and white coats and out of the hospital.

He buried his shaking hands in his pockets as he made his way across town. He had to stop a few times, leaning against a streetlight or a thick tree truck to catch his breath.

His legs ached and trembled as they strained to hold his weight, but he willed himself to keep going; following the trail through the preserve and into the middle of the woods.

He stood in the clearing, standing among the blankets of frail leaves and towering pine trees, and watched the light dance across the forest floor.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come,” a voice called out behind him.

He turned to see Derek standing amongst the trees.

“I had a little trouble getting here,” he admitted, gently rubbing his tender forearm where the IV had been.

“I tried,” Mieczyslaw said after a moment. “I tried to stay awake.”

“By the looks of it, it didn’t work,” Derek said, a kind smile playing across his lips.

“I couldn’t do it,” Mieczyslaw admitted. “I tried, but I don’t know if it was exhaustion or morality that won over, but I couldn’t do it.”

“Why don’t I stay awake with you tonight?” Derek asked, an edge of desperation and pleading in his voice. “Maybe this time it’ll be different.”

“I can’t,” Mieczyslaw replied.

“Just try—”

“No, Derek, I can’t,” he insisted. “These people… they have their own lives. I can’t just live in someone else’s body.”

Derek looked heartbroken, his pale aventurine eyes shimmering as he fought back tears. “So, what do we do?”

He didn’t reply. He let out a weak breath, swallowing hard as he felt his body weaken beneath him. His stomach twisted nauseatingly as the world began to spin.

“Mieczyslaw?” Derek called, taking a step forward.

“I think I know why this guy was in hospital,” he muttered.

“You were in hospital?” Derek shouted.

He tried to speak, his lips quivering as he tried to form words. Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to swallow against the lump in his throat.

“Mieczyslaw?”

He didn’t reply.

His eyes fluttered shut as the darkness consumed him. He felt his body crumble beneath him as he collapsed to the ground and fell into oblivion.

 

 

Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open to the painful glare of the bright lights overhead. He winced, letting out a weak groan as he slowly opened his eyes again.

He took in the details; white walls, colourful balloons that read ‘GET WELL SOON’, a bunch of flowers that sat on the small table by the window, the machines that beeped and whirred, and the man who sat beside him, his head rested against the edge of the hospital bed and his hand on Stiles’.

Stiles gently squeezed his hand, stirring the man.

He looked at the boy with pale aventurine eyes. “Are you… still you?”

Stiles blinked in confusion, his brow furrowed. His throat was dry and his voice raspy as he asked, “What?”

The man’s face fell, his eyes full of pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ve got to go.”

He left just as Melissa stepped into the room.

“Hey,” she said softly, a sweet smile lighting up her kind face. “Good to see you awake. You gave us a scare.”

“What?” Stiles muttered.

“You woke up yesterday and walked right out the front door,” Melissa told him. “I want to lecture you, but I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Woke up?” Stiles repeated.

“You don’t remember what happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

Stiles shook his head.

“You’ve been in a coma for three months,” she told him. “A really bad storm hit Beacon Hills and you were driving to the station to take your dad his dinner when you lost control of the Jeep. You were in a really bad shape when paramedics brought you in, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Who was that guy who was just in here?” Stiles asked.

“His name’s Derek,” she answered. “He found you unconscious out by the preserve and brought you here.”

“Derek,” Stiles uttered, his brow furrowed with confusion as he felt a wave of déjà vu creep into his mind. He let the name sit on his lips as he thought it over, trying to remember something that was just out of his reach. “Derek.”

 

 

A few days later, he stood in the middle of the woods, standing among the yellowing leaves and towering pine trees, his hands buried in the pockets of his bright red hoodie.

He heard the man’s footsteps among the undergrowth, the dry husks of leaves crackling beneath the soles of his mud-clad boots.

“This is—”

“Private property,” Stiles finished, turning to look at Derek. “I know.”

Derek’s pace slowed to a halt as he looked at the young man. His pale eyes were filled with hope and fear, his voice quiet as he asked, “Are you you, or are you—?"

“I remember you,” Stiles said. “I remember how I know you. Eight years ago, my mum died; the same day your house burnt down. My dad was on duty and you sat with me in the hospital.”

Derek said nothing.

“A week later, I ran away from home, but I got turned around in the woods,” Stiles continued. “They sent out a search party, but you were the one who found me.” He looked around at the towering trees and colourful leaves. “You found me here.”

Derek didn’t say anything, just stared at Stiles blankly.

Stiles swallowed hard. “Look, I get it if you don’t remember me, I just—”

“Mieczyslaw?” Derek asked quietly.

“God, I hate that name,” Stiles muttered. He held a hand out. “I’m Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you, Stiles,” Derek said, reaching out to shake Stiles’ hand. “The _real_ you.”

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
